


the past doesn't always haunt you

by theonewiththebooks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonewiththebooks/pseuds/theonewiththebooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gemma O'Neil is different. Dean remembers her very well, even though she doesn't want him to. Gemma remembers the Winchesters fondly, but things always change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Together Again**

I needed Dean’s blood.

I needed it soon. I needed it as soon as possible. I needed it right then, right there.

Preferably before I blew up, killing everyone in a ten mile radius.

I ran my hands under the tap. The hotel had crappy water pressure, but it got the job done...sort of.

The cut I’d pressed a knife into over and over again throbbed under the water, a fresh lining of skin slowly forming against the latest gash.

My hands were covered in blood. My own blood, but blood nonetheless. A pile of Dean’s clothes sat on one side of the counter, Sam’s on the other. I dried my hands on the red towel hanging across from the toilet and picked up a pair of dark jeans from Dean’s pile. I dug in the pockets, procuring the silver ring I knew to be there.  
I held the thin band between my fingers, relishing the power that radiated from it. I held it in my thumb and index finger and watched it twinkle in the dim light of the bathroom. Something I hadn’t expected was engraved sloppily into the inside of the ring.

My name. **Gemma.**

I dropped the ring like it was on fire and it rolled around the sink, too big to fit down the drain. I stared down at the circle of metal and squished my eyebrows together.  
Two more bands appeared in the sink and I smirked.

Being a crazy half-breed had its perks.

I slipped one of the duplicates onto the middle finger of my right hand and stuffed the original half-heartedly into Dean’s pocket.

A gun cocked and the cold, metal barrel pressed into the back of my neck.

“If you’re looking to kill me, you better aim a little higher,” I said quietly, “Sammy Winchester.”

“I’m looking forward to a slow, painful death for you, bitch,” he sneered, his words punctuated and painfully serious. 

I turned, still looking down. Without flicking my eyes upwards, I grabbed the gun now poised over the hollow of my throat and forced it upwards. The barrel rested between my eyebrows and I sighed. 

My eyes travelled up; along Sam’s long legs, his broad chest with a black and blue plaid shirt stretched tightly across it, and finally to his face. His eyes were hard chunks of blue-green ice, his eyebrows knitted together above them.

“You got taller, Sammy.”

And with three little words and a childhood nickname, Sam’s entire face softened and his hands shook as he lowered his gun. “Gemma?” he asked, almost like he didn’t believe it was me. He reached around me as I nodded solemnly. His gun clanked onto the counter and as he leaned back, the gun in my back pocket appeared in his hand. Sam’s fingers twisted around the trigger and I moaned.

“It really is me, Sam,” I breathed, brushing a strand of dyed black-cherry hair out of my face.

“If it’s you, then tell me something only you and I would know.”

I sighed again, leaning back against the sink and crossing my arms over my chest. “I was on the road, with you, your brother, Dean, and your dad for almost two months when I was sixteen, same age as Dean. Your dad, John, he taught me how to shoot my first gun.”

“You could be a demon; you could’ve been watching Gemma when she was with us. You could be a shape shifter.”

“Sure, I could, but I wouldn’t know how I got these,” I replied, tugging my grey tank top up, revealing the claw marks scarred into the skin of my stomach. Sam flinched and chewed his lip as I continued. 

“We got into a mess with a hellhound, just me and your dad. The night before we went on the hunt, I had been...doing stuff with Dean... We got into a fight and I told him I was going to leave, but I didn’t tell you that. And the next day, I went on my ‘final’ hunt with John. We hadn’t expected a hellhound and I got messed up pretty bad. John took me to the hospital and they thought I wouldn’t make it. But somehow, the next morning all I had was scars. An overnight miracle, they called me. The next day, the three of you were gone and I stayed with Bobby for a couple days; your dad gave me directions and a couple hundred. I haven’t seen anyone since.”

“It is you,” Sam said, still staring at me.

“Of course it’s me, Sam.”

Next thing I knew, I was wrapped in Sam’s arms, being crushed against his chest. His blood beat in my ears, but something wasn’t right. I pulled back and stared at him. There was something in his eyes. It clicked, my half-breed senses tingling like I was Spiderman. “Not demon blood, Sammy,” I whispered, but he let go of me so quickly I stumbled backwards, tossed my gun to me and walked out of the bathroom.

“You were always...different, Sam,” I said, following him into the main part of the room. The sheets were rumpled and the Winchester’s trademark duffle bag sat in the middle of the orange carpet. I hadn’t really noticed the little details when I exploded through the door, instantly rummaging through the boys’ clothes for a pocket knife (which now sat covered in my blood on the bathroom counter) and ran into the bathroom.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Gemma. It’s the only thing I can think about.” His voice was full of tears and he sniffed, dropping down onto one of the beds. The weird yellow and blue pattern on the sheets made my head hurt. I leaned against the cabinet that held the television, looking at Sam.

“Does Dean know?” I asked; my voice surprisingly calm and strangely collected.

“No; how the hell am I supposed to tell him?”

I nodded, but at his mention of the h-word, banged my head softly against the wall. My eyes slipped shut and pain flashed through my entire body. My memory of hell was a burden I hated to bear, but one I couldn’t seem to rid myself of.

At that moment, my eyes flashed open and Dean burst through the hotel door, a gun in hand. I stepped around the cabinet so he could see me. His green eyes locked on my grey and his gun fell clattering to the floor.

“No...” was all he said. Pain radiated through my chest. “You’re dead.”

“Obviously I’m not, Dean,” I snarled, a burning sensation filling my head as I said his name. “You of all people should know.”

“I should...? No. You’re in hell. I saw you.” Sam jumped to his feet at his brother’s words and I raked a hand through my hair.

“You’re in hell?” Sam whispered.

“Was,” I spat back at him, running my finger around the ring on my hand.

“She’s supposed to still be there,” Dean said, shrugging out of his coat. “You can leave. Now.”

“Wait. How do you know that, Dean?” Sam asked with an argumentative tone to his voice. He knocked Dean’s shoulder and Dean scowled.

“Because, I-”

“He tortured my soul,” I said simply. Sam looked as though I’d just shot him. He grabbed Dean by the collar and slammed him against the wall. I rolled my eyes. I’d always been like an older sister to Sam; giving him tips on how to impress girls, helping him act a little ‘cooler’. He’d always idolized Dean, but I guess, to him, I was the female version of his brother.

“How could you?” he spat, slamming Dean against the wall again. “You said you loved her!”

“I can hear you!” I yelled, stepping between the two of them and forcing Sam to let go of Dean. My skin touched Dean’s and I tried not to cry out in pain.

“I didn’t have a choice, Sam!” Dean yelled, trying to step around me. “Alastair told me to, so I did!”

“And since when do you do what a demon tells you, Dean? Since when do you turn on the girl who might as well be family?” Sam yelled back, trying to step around me like Dean had.

“Stop it!” I screamed and they both stared at me. “Both of you! Quit it! I need your help.” Sam stepped back and Dean brushed past me. Reaching my breaking point, I yelled at him. “Stop touching me!” I screeched, squeezing my eyes shut. “You know what you did! You remember every goddamn second of it, Dean! You know that touching a soul you’ve tortured puts them in physical pain! You know that!”

“I don’t remember any of it, Gemma!” he yelled, stepping towards me, throwing his arms out to the sides. “I don’t remember torturing you, Gemma, okay? I don’t! All I remember was that you were the first one and Alastair told me to.”

“Well, I wasn’t your only first now, was I, Dean?”

I struck a nerve and he turned; his eyes green flames.

“You don’t talk about that in front of Sam, Gemma!” he yelled, but I could see it in his eyes. He remembered that night. The night before the hellhound attack. The night when we were sixteen and ‘in love’. 

The night when he told me he loved me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Help Wanted**

Sam rubbed my shoulder in sympathy. I didn’t want his sympathy. I didn’t need his sympathy. I needed Dean’s blood. I could feel the demonic rage building up inside of me, like a thunder clouds just gathering over a crashing sea. My emotions were the roaring waves. I was sitting on the bed next to Sam. His arm was draped over my shoulder and I leaned into him, tears falling down my cheeks like waterfalls. 

Dean was in the bathroom, the door closed and the water running.

“He’ll come around, Gem. Don’t worry about it. He’s been like this ever since he...” Sam’s face fell and I stood up, my stiletto boots squishing into the carpeted floor.

“Since he came back from hell?” I asked, picking my leather jacket up off the floor. Sam nodded; his puppy-dog eyes boring into mine. I knew what he was going to ask before the words were out of his mouth.

“Why were you down there, Gem?” he asked quietly, clasping his hands in front of himself.

“I found out things I wasn’t supposed to,” I replied, pulling my leather jacket on. “I don’t want you two to get hurt, Sammy. I’ll leave.”

“Since when do you listen to Dean?” Sam said, getting up off the bed and blocking the door.

“Since he’s right and I need to get out of here before I blow up and kill everyone in a ten mile radius.”

“If Dean’s right, then why are you here? I know you, Gemma. You wouldn’t be here unless you were in trouble. Dad hurt you, taking us away like that, and you’re still hurt.” The truth of his words stung, but I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for Sam to process the last part of my sentence. He stared back at me and then his eyebrows shot into his hairline. I laughed. “What the hell do you mean blow up, Gemma?” he yelled, walking towards me. I walked in the opposite direction and dropped into a chair next to the television.

“You remember how you found me, Sam?”

“You were the daughter of one of Dad’s old hunting buddies. Your dad saved my dad’s ass a few hundred times and then there was some demon or something. Your mom and dad didn’t make it and so you were just going to stay with us until you found your footing. You were only supposed to stay a few days, but days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and so you stayed until-”

“Until the night Dean told me he loved and I told him I loved him.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then why’d you go?”

“I loved your brother, Sam. I still do. And you will always be the little brother I never had. But after he told me he loved me, I guess I was in shock. Dean’s so anti-love all the time and I just wanted to...save myself...from getting my heart broken. But I told him the truth, that I did love him back. So I hunted one last time and then left, to find my own way.”

“Hm. You never should’ve left, Gem. He wasn’t the same without you.” 

I chewed on my lip and nodded, Sam’s words stinging at my skin. “You know that demon, Crowley, who set that hellhound on us?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well, turns out that he wasn’t actually trying to kill us. He was trying to help us. There was another demon there that night, and he set the hellhound on us. Crowley just set his own hound to take on the other one, but then the other one disappeared so Crowley’s hound came after me.”

Sam rubbed his face with his hands and I tapped my food on the carpet. “Alright, well why do you need help, Gemma? What’s going on?”

“Crowley told me something that night. Before the hound attacked. Said some things to me and your dad that kind of screwed things over. What he told us was the reason why your dad left me after I ‘recovered’. Why he took you and Dean away.”

“And what was that? Quit beating around the bush, Gemma. Just tell me,” Sam said, pulling a beer out of the mini fridge near the bed and twisting the cap off, tossing the circle of metal aside.

“That he was my father.” I shifted in the chair and Sam choked in his beer.

“You’re a demon?” he cried in disbelief. “You lied to me? To Dean?” I shook my head.

“Not full-blood, just half.”

“And the other half? Human?”

“Nope.”

“Then what?” he asked, already reaching for the demon-killing knife I knew was hiding under the bed. I sniffed and shook my head.

“It won’t work on me, Sam.”

“Then answer the damn question, Gem.” I sighed and ran my finger along the hemline of my jacket.

“Angel. My mother was an angel. I was adopted by the parents John Winchester knew. Crowley was my father and my mother was an angel by the name of Maria.” Sam just stared at me, dropping down onto the bed, his beer falling onto the bedside table, but miraculously staying upright. At least five minutes passed and Sam didn’t say anything.

I walked toward the window and pulled the orange curtain back an inch, just enough to see out into the darkness. We were in Albany, New York. In a hotel somewhere along the Interstate. The Impala was parked outside the hotel, the dark paint shining in the moonlight. It was snowing slightly, big, puffy flakes floating through the air slowly, twirling before hitting the ground. The rims of the tires shone white and I let the curtain fall back into place. Some...things...had happened in the back of that car. Things that had...altered Dean and I, the connection between us. Things that I didn’t know if Dean knew about. Things that even I didn’t know the extents of. Things that could kill if we didn’t ‘solidify’, according to Crowley. And according to Alastair down in hell. He had told Dean, but he had been so out of it that he hadn’t paid attention. I swallowed back memories of hell and Sam made a strange noise. I sat on the edge of the window as he spoke.

“So you’re...half angel, half demon?”

“Yep.” I drew out the word, smacking my lips together.

“But that still doesn’t explain why you were in hell or why you need help.”

“Lucifer got his goons to drag me down because I found out about his plan to kill me.”

“You found out about his plan to kill you, so he killed you?”

“Almost. Ripped my soul out of my body, dragged my soul down to hell and handed me over to Alastair. He made Dean torture me.”

“So now what?”

I shifted on the windowsill. I could feel my blood boiling under my skin. The explosion was close, I knew that for sure. It felt like gunpowder was replacing my blood, like dynamite or a hand grenade. “That night, before the hound attack, with Dean? Something...happened that night. I don’t know what and I don’t know how. But it formed some kind of bond between me and Dean. I don’t know what its limitations are or what it’s going to do. But what I know right now is that I need his blood in my system or else...”

“Or else what, Gemma?”

“Or else, bye-bye Gemma. And bye-bye everyone around me.”

Sam rubbed his face again and stood up. His hulking frame towered above me and I waited for him to shoot me or stab me or slap me or something. But the unexpected happened. He walked across the room and knocked on the door to the bathroom. Dean’s gruff voice answered with a short “what” and Sam grabbed the doorknob. “Come out, Dean. You gotta help Gem.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Who We Were**

I zipped up my jacket and shoved my hands into my pockets. Dean was refusing to open the door. Sam had knocked on the door eight or nine times. “Sammy, he’s not going to help.” 

“No. He will. Or I’ll beat the living shit out of him.”

“Sam...” I said warningly as Sam attempted to open the door.

“No, Gem. You need his blood. Why I don’t know, but if it’s going to save you, he’s going to give it to you.” When I had told Sam the only way to save myself was to get Dean’s blood running through my veins, he had looked at me like I was insane. That look was still on his face, but it wasn’t directed at me so much. Dean was refusing to help, but Sam was going to do his damndest to force his brother into it. Sam groaned and slammed his fists into the door. 

“Hey!” was the only word the emanated from the other side. Dean’s voice was thick. Almost like he was crying.

“God damn it, Dean!” Sam yelled, his voice bouncing off the hotel room walls.

I shook my head and walked across the room, my hand twisting around the door knob. My body was vibrating, but I squished my toes and clenched my hands into fists, forcing my body to be still; the calm before the storm. 

“Sam, he’s not going to help. Give it up. I’m like a friggin’ time bomb. I have to go, Sam. Now.”

“No, you aren’t, Gem. Get your ass over here, now.”

I sighed, twisting the door knob in my hand and yanked the door open. The cool air nipped at my skin and I hunched my shoulders forward, conserving my body heat. The Impala was dusted in a light blanket of snow. Snow in October, huh. A demonic omen in New York? I think not. I walked toward it, my heels clicking against the pavement. My hand rested on the side mirror and I brushed the snow off of it, watching the white flakes float to the floor. I heard the room door slam and I turned. A tall, shadowed figure stood outside the door, the outdoor lights hiding his face. I couldn’t tell which brother was coming out to try to coerce me back inside. I figured it was Sam, turned on my heel and kept clicking down the driveway. 

A hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder and forced me to turn. My ankle twisted and I squeaked, almost toppling sideways. But he kept me steady, upright. Dean. I opened my mouth to say something, but he pressed his finger to my bottom lip, wiping something onto my skin. I automatically licked my lip and a coppery taste exploded in my mouth.

“Wha-” I tried to say something, but he grabbed my face and shoved his lips on mine. I was lifted onto my toes. His arms wrapped around me and his smell overtook me. That perfect mix of aftershave and Dean-smell. My body leaned into his and shivers ran up and down my spine. Then, he pushed me away and I stumbled sideways. I staggered for a moment, and then found my balance and my hand flew to my lips. On one hand, my body felt light and airy, like Dean’s blood was attacking the gunpowder that was lying currently dormant in my body. It was exactly as Crowley had told me. Dean Winchester’s blood would save my life, keep me whole.

“Shouldn’t have done that...” Dean mumbled, turning away from me and starting to walk towards the hotel again. My feet carried me quickly until I was in front of him. 

“Yeah and why not?” I asked, planting my feet and crossing my arms. Dean worked his jaw a few times, staring at me, and attempted to step around me. I stuck out my arm and pushed his shoulder back. He stood a few feet from me and I ran my finger down my bottom lip. My skin came away smeared with red in the moonlight. I licked my fingertip, keeping my eyes on Dean.

“Leave, Gemma. I told you once; do not make me tell you again.”

“Will you just shut up about making me leave already? If you wanted me to leave, you wouldn’t have just kissed me, Dean. Admit it. You don’t want me to leave.”

“That may be true, but you have to, Gemma. I can’t face up to what happened downstairs, not yet. Not with Sam around.”

“Well, then when are you going to face up to it, Dean? Because I’m not going anywhere, like it or not. And neither is Sam. So I’m here, you’re here, we were both down there. Let’s talk. Right here right now.”

“I can’t, Gemma. I can’t.”

I put my hands on my face almost like I was praying and stared up at the starry sky. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking again. I took a deep breath, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the Impala. It was parked under a flickering streetlight. As we reached the car, the light buzzed out. I pulled open the back door on the driver’s side and Dean looked at me, his face now lit by darkness. I glanced up at the lamp and the light bulb flickered back to life. Dean kicked at the ground, his eyes darting to the hotel.

“Get in, Dean.”

“Gemma, please. Don’t do this. Please.” I sighed, turned him so his back was to the Impala and pressed my two fingers to the spot between his eyebrows. He collapsed, unconscious and I (somehow) managed to get him into the back seat. I leaned over and dug in his pocket for the keys. I found them, closed the door and jogged back to the hotel. Poking my head in the door, I licked my lip and glanced at Sam, who raised his eyes to meet mine from his spot on the bed.

“I’m kidnapping your brother, hope you don’t mind,” I said, raising my eyebrow and giving a small smile.

“Nope, not at all. You kids have fun.” Sam winked and I shook my head. I pulled my head out and closed the door.

When I got back to where the Impala was parked, I opened the driver’s door and slipped inside. Dean muttered as I closed the door and hit the locks. The engine revved and I pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Oh, boy. This was going to be...interesting...


End file.
